


Puppets and Bilge Rats

by Happenstance_and_Balderdash



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Author's AU, Captain Charming - Freeform, Dark Prince "Charming" James | David Nolan, Deckhand Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Hook/Charming is the main ship, Internal Conflict, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, at least initially, background Snowing, little to no fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-30 10:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10160990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happenstance_and_Balderdash/pseuds/Happenstance_and_Balderdash
Summary: Set just after the events in the Author's AU (Season 4, Operation Mongoose part 1 & 2).  But in this version, Henry doesn't succeed in changing the story and we follow what happens after Hook is revived and interrogated by Queen Snow.  Please heed the tags as the fic progresses.





	1. The Dungeon

They kept the pirate in the dungeon, naturally.  The Queen had paid a hefty magical price to keep the bastard alive for questioning after the Swan woman and her offspring had gone.  The deckhand had known nothing of use, however.  Nearly two weeks of questioning had yielded nothing of substance.  Snow was furious over the waste of powerful magic, and it had cost her the life of her most valuable guard.  Even at the best of times, Charming wasn’t much in her favor, and now he found himself completely cut off.  He spent much of his newfound free time training the less experienced  guards or riding his horses aimlessly through the countryside.  When he wasn’t doing that, he either roamed the castle in frustration or simply sat idle and apathetic in his chambers.

Growing weary of this treatment day in and day out, and with Snow showing no interest in his presence, he made his way to the dungeons for a simple change of scenery.  The guards on duty at the entrance there held little respect for him, having been picked by Snow herself and well-kept.  But they usually did as he bade anyway for precisely that reason.  He was her right-hand man, after all.

“Purpose of your visit, sir?” one inquired mechanically.

Charming crossed his arms and glared. “I don’t answer to you.”

“Of course, sir.  All the same, sir, what is the purpose of your visit?” the other responded just as blandly.

With an irritated huff, he listed off whatever plausible reasons came to mind. “To check the conditions of the dungeons, discover whether Vera has had her child, question the pirate, and check in on our resident princess.”  He raised his eyebrows in challenge.

The guards exchanged a look, and Charming knew they would be informing Snow about his visit to the princess, ‘checking in on’ being the accepted term for ‘having one’s way with’ a prisoner.  “Very good, sir,” they said in unison and stepped aside.

Charming had no intention of having his way with anyone, but hoped it might inspire Snow to summon him soon.  And now that he’d given the guards a list, he thought he might as well follow through with the rest of it.  There was nothing better to occupy his time, presently.

The descent into the dungeon was a long and fragrant one.  Snow had ordered heavily scented flowers and oils to be set along the staircase in an effort to keep offending odors from wafting into the main castle.  Charming just found the resulting mix nauseating.  Thankfully, the perfuming attempt stopped at the last stair.  He wasn’t sure what the problem was, really.  As dungeons went, his was practically luxurious.  Every occupied cell contained a chamber pot and basin of water which were cleaned out daily, a bed of sheets and hay replenished by the week, and many cells were quite spacious for a single person.  Snow might turn up her nose at the very thought of visiting the dungeons, but Charming took some pride in them.  Truth be told, he was fairly certain Snow would disapprove of them on the grounds that it was ‘too good’ for her prisoners.  She never visited in person though, so her opinion be damned.  What set prisoners apart from each other was food and medical attention.  They could be kept in the cleanest cell imaginable, but it wouldn’t make them any happier if they starved or bled to death.  These decisions were largely his own to make.

As he came at last to the pregnant woman’s cell, he called out “Any baby in there yet?”

A small voice answered him quietly, “No, sir,” a pause and a pant, “but soon, sir, I think.”

He looked up from his hands, which he had been studying instead of looking through the small window in the wooden door. “Oh?”

She nodded from where she stood, supporting herself with one arm against the wall and the other under her sizable belly. “Yes, sir.”

She was clearly in labor.  “Fine,” he said casually. “I’ll send for a midwife.”

He saw her expression visibly clear as he turned to walk away. “Thank you, sir!”

He had never mentioned that she would be receiving any assistance in childbirth, and she wouldn’t have if it had begun without his knowledge.  But he wouldn’t knowingly leave a woman, prisoner or otherwise, to deal with it on their own.

Several minutes later, he came to the door of the princess Snow was holding for ransom.  He opened the locked window and peered inside.  She was gazing upward to where he knew a large spider had made its web.

“Princess,” he started, but she didn’t turn.  “Princess Iris.”

“Yes?” She still wouldn’t turn to face him, leaving him to stare at her back.  Her long brown hair hung in a loosely tied tail, knotted and ungroomed.  Her cell contained an actual cot and a small bundle of plain but clean clothing, which she had been refusing to accept over her own grimy but high-quality underthings.

He rolled his eyes, not willing to play at getting her attention.  “The guards have been told I’ve checked in on you.  It would be in your best interest to go corroborate.  Agreed?”  It wasn’t likely that she’d disagree, but it would certainly hurt his reputation if she did.  Not to mention make him an object of ridicule in Snow’s eyes.  But she knew the routine, and was generally willing to play her part.

“Yes, of course.” She deigned to look at him, finally.  There were dried tear tracks down her dirty cheeks, but her expression was merely curious. “Details?”

He thought a moment, wondering what was most believable.  “Hmm, Your mouth.”  He pointed to the far wall. “Over there.”

She nodded and lowered the leather strap in her hair, pulling loose a few strands. “Sufficient?” she asked, arms back at her sides.

He looked her over.  There wasn’t really any other way to ‘prove’ the incident, though the tears were a convenient addition.  “Don’t wash your face.”

She brought her fingers to her cheek, seemingly forgetting she had cried, then lowered them again and nodded.  As he made to close the window, she suddenly called out, “David, wait!”

He did, cringing inwardly at the use of his proper name. “What is it?”

She sat stiffly on the edge of the cot.  “Will she release me?”

He shrugged, but said, “It depends on your parents at this point.  They need to decide whether they value their daughter more than an uninhabited island.  Once they give up the island, you’re free to go.  If they don’t, well…” He held up his hands to indicate he had no say in the matter.  She looked at the ground as he closed the window on her.  He had no interest in politics.

At last, after another, shorter flight of steps downward, he came to the location of his final chore.  The cells down here were smaller, generally darker, had bars instead of walls on three sides, and held a lingering damp.  He avoided it when he could, as it left him with a chill for hours after any extended time there.

The pirate’s cell was as small and musty as one might expect for the Queen’s least favorite prisoner, and someone had removed the basin of water and sheet from the cell.  Charming’s eye twitched in annoyance, but he ignored it for the moment.  The prisoner himself sat on the scattered hay of his destroyed bed, one ankle chained to the back wall, hunched over and staring at his bare, filthy feet.

“Jones,” Charming said sharply, startling the man upright.  He laughed at that, but it was a hollow sound.  Snow’s interrogation of the pirate had been quite a physical one, and it was clear that no care had been provided after.  He displayed a barely-fading blackened eye and bruised gash at his cheekbone.  Dried blood crusted at his hairline, flaking down onto his forehead.  Any other marks were hidden by the ridiculous leather clothing he still wore.  Charming couldn’t help but think that was a punishment in itself.  Nearly a fortnight without changing out of the same bloody, soiled leather.  The man had to be crawling out of his skin.  Snow knew what she was doing.  “Stand up,” he ordered.

Jones pushed himself to his feet shakily, not putting weight on the chained leg.  Standing, Charming could see a ring of raw skin around the top of the foot and noticed for the first time that the hook which stood in for the man’s hand had been removed.  It made sense, he supposed, though he found the sight strange.  Without the hook, he looked even less imposing than he had as a bumbling deckhand.

“Jones,” he began again. “The Queen is very unhappy with you.”

“So I’d gathered.” He didn’t raise his eyes, but there was a hint of spite in his raspy, underused voice.  Charming didn’t like it.

“Do you know why?”

“I know nothing.” He said too quickly, as if reciting, bitterness in his tone.

Charming nodded. “And _you_ are nothing.  She tried to ransom you and salvage something from this mess.  Did you know?  Nobody wanted you.”  He watched the pirate’s face for a reaction and was rewarded with a fleeting expression of sadness, but it was mastered quickly.  “Was it worth it?” he prodded, “helping those two escape?  That insane Swan woman and her brat?  What did it get you in the end?”  When no answer was forthcoming, Charming stepped up to the bars of the cell, anger beginning to rise in his chest for this useless man who had caused him so much trouble. “Do you know what it got _me_?”  Slamming his hand into the metal, he suddenly shouted, “nothing!” as the bars rattled.  “Nothing!” he repeated as he found his resentment at Snow’s cold shoulder flowing out at a new target.  “Less than nothing.”  His tone turned menacing as he continued, “It’s your fault any of this is happening, pirate.  If you hadn’t stupidly run off to help the madwoman in the tower, none of this would be happening.”

Jones looked him in the face at last as Charming drew out the heavy keys from a leather pouch at his waist, eyes widening in growing fear, earlier hint of defiance gone.  As the cell door loudly scraped open, Jones’ hand raised in a placating gesture, his other arm instinctively across his midsection.  “Whoa, mate, there’s no need for – “

“ _Mate_!?” shouted Charming, moving into the other man’s space in less than two strides.  “Mate!?” he spat and shoved the pirate hard in the chest, sending him back into the wall with a thud.  “Fine choice of words there, ‘mate’,” he repeated angrily.  “You go and free the woman, help her escape when we catch you, don’t even have the decency to _DIE_ properly, sentence _ME_ to being even lower in Snow’s eyes, and you think ‘mate’ is going to help you?”  Charming sent his fist hard into Jones’ gut and watched him slide down the wall, breathless.

“S-sorry!” he gasped, hunched over. “I’m sorry!” He raised his hand defensively, cowering.

Charming stepped back and took several deep breaths, bringing himself under control.  He hadn’t expected his anger to burst out like this.  It was rare that he allowed himself to be swept up by an emotion or act out on a violent whim.  It was actually one of Snow’s issues with him.  Despite Snow removing his heart, he was never as bloodthirsty as his brother had been.  But at least she had given him power.  She kept him around because he was a mirror of James, at least physically.  She would never love him, but he could settle for tolerance.  Now, because of this filthy, cowardly pirate, he didn’t even have that.  She held him responsible for the price paid to bring Jones back, as he had struck the fatal blow.  He took another step back, mentally collecting himself. He regretted having let himself rage, even if reaching such an emotional edge had been something of a thrill.  It was one of the few emotions he could manage to properly feel anymore.

“Did she do it?”

The quiet voice almost didn’t register, and he refocused. “What?”

“Emma.  Did she do it?  What she was trying to do?” The voice was hesitant but hopeful.

“Did she…” Charming gaped down at him incredulously.  “No, she didn’t do what she…are you insane?  Did you even speak to the woman?  She was completely deranged!  Did she actually convince you that fairy tale was true!?  How stupid are you?” He stared down at the man, genuinely wondering if he was serious.  “Does this _look_ like another land to you?  Does this strike you as being ‘better’?”  He could feel his control slipping again.  “Do you know what she told us?” Jones didn’t answer.  He had been there.  Of course he knew.  Charming recounted it anyway.  “She told us that she was the daughter of Snow and myself.  That she was a child of True Love.”  He barked out a humorless laugh.  “Do I look old enough to be that woman’s father?”  The pirate just stared.  “Do I look old enough to be that boy’s _grandfather_?”  He paced the small cell in agitation.  “Do you think Snow would ever consider having a child by me?  An insufficient copy of my brother?”

“I…”  Jones trailed off, watching Charming fearfully.

“No, Jones,” he said, forcing himself to stop pacing and face the crumpled man.  “No,” he repeated, again pressing down the simmering anger in his chest, now tainted with shame.  He realized as he reined himself in that he had unwittingly revealed too much of himself.  Most knew he was Snow’s right-hand man, Captain of the guard and occasional bedfellow of the queen.  Almost nobody knew the details of their relationship, and _nobody_ knew how he felt about it.  Except this bilge rat.  “She and her pathetic son were killed just hours after I killed you.”  He paused a moment and glared.  “The first time.”

It gave Charming a strange sense of triumph to see the pirate’s bloodshot blue eyes begin to well up as he muttered, “Oh.”

“So you see, pirate,” he said quietly as he lowered himself to eye-level, “This is all there is for you now.  No ‘other’ life.  No mysterious madwoman improving your circumstances.  Just this cell, in this dungeon, and me.”

The pirate made no reply, but turned his face away, eyes tightly shut.

Charming stood and watched the wreck of a man for a moment, and then made his way out of the cell, locking it behind him.  As he ascended the short flight of stairs again, he heard a muffled sob from below and smiled to himself.  Good.  Someone ought to share his misery.

Other prisoners tried to catch his attention on his way out, but he wasn’t interested.  The pregnant woman was moaning in her cell as he walked by, but  he was still too full of anger and shame to offer any words of encouragement.

He didn’t register anything but the flash of a rat’s tail on his way back up the perfumed stairwell.  Once at the doorway, he shoved the keys back into their pouch.

“Everything to your liking, sir?” said a guard as he passed, bringing him up short.

“What?”

“Was everything as expected, sir? Up to your standards?”

He rounded on the guard, who looked slightly taken aback.  “No, Lawrence,” he bit out.  “No, it wasn’t.  The pot in the first corridor corner cell needs emptying.  Vera is in need of a midwife.  There are rats in the stairwell.  And,” he added the last reluctantly, “the pirate is to be given a sheet for his hay and his water basin back.  We have a reputation to uphold.”  He turned to walk away again but added, fighting the disgust in his throat, “And bring him food.  We have more questions.”

“Yes, sir,” said the guards with more deference than usual as he strode away.

Charming summoned the midwife himself, not trusting the guards to do so, before retiring to his chambers and sprawling onto the crimson bedding.  He should not have gone to see the pirate.  All he had accomplished was to expose his own insecurity and hurt his hand.  The damned man had too many buttons.  His best course of action, he decided, was to ignore that particular thorn in his side and wait for a summons from Snow.  Sooner or later, she was bound to come around.


	2. Beginnings

It had only been one day since he’d planted the seed of jealousy for Snow to harvest.  Her summons came through to him clearly as he readied one of his horses for an afternoon ride.  Her commanding voice reverberated through him and he felt his body seize slightly as he attempted to finish saddling the mare before heeding the call.  Quickly giving in, he turned on his heel, directed a boy to tend to the abandoned beast, and headed back over the flat expanse of grass between the stables and castle.  He grinned to himself as he covered the distance.  Perhaps Snow would want to show off, demonstrate to him that he didn’t need to visit prisoners for his desires.  The thought gave him a thrill, but he knew it was beyond unlikely.  Still, he’d take anything she offered.  Simply the fact that she was willing to be in his presence was an enormous step forward.

Charming was barely aware of the journey between entering the castle and the meeting chamber to which she had summoned him.  It also happened to be her preferred room for interrogating prisoners.  He had been present and active in many interrogations during his time with Snow.  It was an almost bare room with a large rectangular table at one end which stood atop an elaborate rug.  Cushioned chairs surrounded the table, and gave the impression of comfort.  However, at the other end, the room was outfitted with a single restraining chair and a strong metal loop in the floor and ceiling where one might secure a length of chain or rope.

The location took some of his more hopeful ideas out of the realm of possibility.  Perhaps she would simply talk.  Fill him in on the things he ought to know politically. Or…and the thought filled his stomach with ice…was _he_ to be the prisoner?  Had she become so angry with him that _he_ would be the one chained, beaten and thrown in a cell?  Aside from the fear of losing Snow’s favor permanently, he knew his tenuous reputation would be shattered forever.  Nobody would respect him if that were to happen.  Nobody would likely even speak to him for fear of the Queen.  So, a social death even if she didn’t kill him outright and released him.

The dismal fantasy froze his hand on the cold ring of iron he had been about to pull.

“Charming?  Is that you?” Snow’s voice came clearly through the door, and there was no turning away now.  No playing for time. Not that he could have if he’d tried.

“Yes, my Queen,” he answered, arranging his features naturally and swinging open the heavy door.

The sight which met him was…most unexpected.  Snow stood serenely at the far end of the room, hands clasped in front of her, a vision of regal beauty with a smile playing on her red lips.  Several steps to her left sat the pirate, both chained to the floor by the shackle at his ankle, and restrained in the heavy chair, one side of which had been modified to strap across the forearm instead of at the wrist.  Thin rivulets of drying blood made paths from tiny cuts scattered across areas of exposed skin.  Snow’s doing, of course.  She did so enjoy her little blade.  Several of the man’s vest buttons had gone missing and wet spots glistened on his dark shirt where he had bled through.  Snow had been thorough.  The pirate did not meet his eyes or even look up. 

Snow watched Charming appraisingly as he strode across the room and bowed in front of her. “You took your time,” she said.

“I’m sorry, Majesty.  I was in the stables.”

“Run next time,” she quipped before turning and nodding toward the door.  “My boys were just telling me that our resident whore has had her child.”  Charming nodded his confirmation.  “They also tell me that you…what is the term you use… ‘checked in on’ the princess?” She looked him straight in the eye and he felt his mouth go dry, but nodded again.  “How was she?” Snow took a step closer to him. “Do be honest.”

He looked down at her and saw the danger in her eyes. “Adequate.”

“Did she want it?” again she moved closer.

“No.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

He thought quickly, a difficult task as she drew close, and settled for, “Not much.”

She smiled up at him devilishly and slowly turned away, sliding her nails across his stomach before stepping back to where she had begun, looking unchanged herself, but leaving him pink around the ears. “Poor David,” she pouted mockingly.  “Reduced to using the unwilling mouths of captive royalty.  Who’s next, the cook?”

“I hope not, my Queen.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, not missing his implication, and then turned her head toward the pirate, who had neither moved nor made any sound during the exchange.  “I was also told that you visited this…man.”  She sneered as she said it, as if he didn’t merit the word.

He took a breath in relief, glad to be out from her interrogation.  “I did.”

“And did you learn anything?”

“No, my Queen.  Only confirmed that he is useless.”

“Not completely useless.” She said sweetly, pulling her small knife from the sash around her waist.  “He did help me test my blade.”  She tilted her head slightly.  “And it seems you tested your strength with him, given how he’s been shying away whenever I get near his middle.”

He shrugged.  “I suppose I did.”

“Do it again.”  Charming’s eyes snapped back to hers, and he saw a familiar gleam.  “Maybe he’ll remember something.” Snow flashed him a mischievous smile.

“What?” protested Jones, head swiveling between the two, suddenly alert.  “No, I don’t know anything!”

“We’ll see,” said Snow sweetly, holding Charming’s gaze.  “Do this for your Queen, Charming, and you may be rewarded.”

If he’d had a heart, it might have skipped a beat.  Was this his redemption?  Was beating this pirate filth all she required to regain her favor?  “Rewarded?”

“The nature of the reward will depend on how well you perform.”

He licked his lips and shifted so that he stood directly in front of the seated pirate, looking him over, deciding on a course of action.  “My Queen?”

“Your choice,” she said coyly, stepping to the side to watch.

He glanced at her and then back to the bound man, his own chest puffed out slightly, pleased with the way things were going.  He wasn’t generally one for needless abuse, but Snow was all the motivation he needed.  He’d do anything for her, and she knew it.  She had assured it.

“So, Jones,” he bean, crossing his arms across his chest. “What are you not telling us?”  He knew full well that there was no more information to be gained. Snow knew this as well.  But he was perfectly content to play along. 

“Nothing!” Jones replied, eyes wide.  “I’ve told you all I know, I swear!  I’ve not hidden anything from you.”

Charming gave him a stern look. “Our Queen disagrees.”

“You know everything I know!”  His hand griped the end of the chair’s wooden arm so tightly that the tips of his fingers had gone white.

“Are you calling the Queen a liar?” he asked dangerously, arms unfurling.

“No!” he protested, trying to find a way out of the trap.  “No, I-I-I…” he stuttered himself into silence.

Snow’s voice came from behind him now and he watched as Jones’ eyes followed her.  “He’s calling me a liar, Charming.  You won’t let him get away with that, will you?”  He felt Snow’s light touch trail across his shoulders as she crossed to his other side.

“No, I won’t.”  There was a second of silence before the pirate’s head snapped to the side with the force of Charming’s fist.  “Nobody slanders the Queen, pirate, least of all you.”  The second blow sent blood splattering to the floor.

Snow came around to see more clearly, her expression practically joyous as she watched a string of bloody saliva slip to the floor from the pirate’s lips.  She ran her hand smoothly up Charming’s arm and then down his back as she stepped away again.  “Lesson well taught,” she praised.  Her words lifted him, letting him know he was on the right path.

Jones turned slowly back, one eye shut tight and blood coating his lower lip.  That black eye of his wouldn’t be healing any time soon, Charming thought absently.  The feel of Snow’s fingers trailing down his back still lingered.  He wanted more.  What would it take to gain her lips? An embrace?  More?  He shook out his hand and grabbed a fistful of black hair, pulling Jones’ head back, forcing him to look at Snow.  “Apologize to your Queen.”

“I didn’t  –“

Charming tightened his grip and the pirate winced. “Apologize.”

“Sorry,” he ground out at last.  Charming released him, brushing several newly-liberated hairs to the floor from his hand.  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, dribbling blood from his mouth as he spoke.

“You know, Killian,” Snow began in a kind voice, using the pirate’s given name and beginning to walk in a slow circle around him.  “It’s your fault you’re here, you know.  None of us _made_ you break that woman out of her prison.”  She slid her fingers across the back of the chair as she crossed behind him.  “Nobody made you believe her rambling.”  She looked at him quizzically as she came around to face him again.  “How could you…anyone…seriously believe that prattle?”  She sighed, leaning down toward her captive.  “It’s a shame someone so pretty was gifted so little brain.”  As she praised his looks, she drew her small knife over his collarbone in a lazy curve, making him grimace and grit his teeth until she removed the blade.  A moment later, she dragged her nails over the thin wound and he hissed in pain.  “Mmm.  A real pity,” she said in a mock-sorrowful voice, running her fingers gently across his cheek and leaving spots of his own blood on his face as she stood again. 

Charming found himself inexplicably envious.  Not that he wanted anything to do with her blade, but she had just touched...no, _caressed_ the pirate in a few seconds more than she had touched him in weeks.  A sort of jealousy crept up on him as he glanced to Snow.  She looked on in obvious interest.  She knew.  She had done it to get a rise out of him, and it had worked.  If that was what she wanted, he would go ahead and milk it for all it was worth.

“So you know nothing?” he asked, his voice clipped as he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Jones shook his head quickly. “Nothing.”

“Then,” he said, approaching again, “there is no point in keeping you around.”

Jones looked momentarily hopeful, as if sensing freedom, but it faded instantly as he looked into Charming’s eyes.  “Wait, no…” he began, sitting up straight in the chair.

Charming took the opportunity to punch him soundly under the ribs.  The man doubled over with a sick-sounding grunt, winded.  Charming casually released the leather straps tying the pirate to the chair, but all that happened was that Jones brought his arms in to cover his middle, still trying to regain his breath.

Charming checked for Snow’s reaction, and found she looked nothing less than thrilled.  “Stand up,” he ordered.  When nothing happened, he strode around to the back of the chair and with some effort, tipped both it and its occupant over. “Stand up,” he said again.  It was several moments before the pirate began to move, pushing himself slowly onto his knees and then shakily uncurling until he was on his feet.  He kept his weight mostly on one foot, as he had done in his cell.

“Please,” he said quietly, not raising his eyes from the floor.

“At least he has manners,” remarked Snow, and then addressed him directly.  “Please, what? Is there anything at all that you can tell us?”

He met her eyes briefly, pleading.  “I don’t…I don’t know.  I don’t want to die.”  His voice broke on the last word, tears threatening to spill over his lower lids.

Snow clapped her hands together once and looked happily up at Charming.  “Look, dearest, we’ve made him cry.”  She stood on her toes to drop a kiss to Charming’s jaw and it sent a jolt through his body.  He turned to try and capture a proper kiss, but she had already turned away. 

“I’ve already killed you once, pirate.”  Jones turned his watery eyes on Charming.  “It’s too bad for you that you didn’t stay dead.”

“That’s not –“

“Your fault?”  He pushed the man, sending him back several paces despite not using much force.  “Do you imagine anyone really wanted you alive?  Do you realize how much better it would have been for everybody if you’d stayed dead?”  Jones looked like a cornered animal, unsure of what to do, what the immediate threat was, and so frozen.  “We lost a guard to bring you back.  A damn good one, and our only dragon.”  That brought his anger up in a rush and he lashed out, charging the pirate and sending him flying.  He might have slid across the room if his chain hadn’t pulled him up violently short.  Jones yelped and scrambled back to give his foot some slack.  He sat panting, shaking hand hovering over the crusty cuff at his ankle, teeth gritted as blood began to pool and then trickle out of the gouges in his flesh.  Charming stalked over and pushed him down with his heel before delivering a solid kick.  Jones curled in on himself.  “I have no qualms whatsoever in ending you a second time.”  He struck out aimlessly, some ungrounded revulsion in his chest, and caught him in the back of the thigh.  Jones cried out wordlessly, hand instinctively covering the point of impact.

Charming dropped to a knee and landed a blow on the other man’s cheek, knocking his head into the floor.  When a glance at Snow revealed her to be looking on gleefully, he grabbed a tight fist full of Jones’ hair, preparing to dash his skull against the stone floor.

“Please!” shouted the pirate through his pain, eyes slightly unfocused.  Charming paused.  “Please no!” he panted, searching out Snow. 

“ _You_ don’t address the Queen!” He pulled back his fist, but Snow held up her hand.

“Wait.”  Her voice was calm.  Charming released his grip and Snow walked slowly over, hands clasped loosely in front of her as she studied the man.  “You have two options here, Killian, and two only.”  The use of given name raised Charming’s hackles.  “Your choices are death or dungeon.  Let me make this clear.  I have no intentions of ever releasing you _except_ to death.” She said it clearly, seriously, curiosity in her voice.

“I…don’t want to die.” The tears finally fell from his eyes.  His voice shook as he repeated, “I don’t want to die.”  He took a shuddering breath.  “Please, I’ll…a-anything…”

Charming watched in mild disgust, but Snow’s beaming face made his stomach flip.

“Anything?” she asked, catching Charming’s eye.  Jones nodded.  “Sit up.”  He did, sniffling, moving gingerly.  “Well then,” she grinned, “ask him to hit you again.”  Jones’ mouth fell open and Charming’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “Nicely.”

He fearfully met Charming’s eyes and his chin trembled before he said in a small voice, “Please hit me again.”  His voice wavered as he said it, but he got the words out.

Charming looked back at Snow, who nodded.  “My pleasure,” he said before pulling his fist back and letting it connect sickeningly with the pirate’s nose.  Jones fell back, clutching his face, groaning and coughing.  Charming could have hit him harder and actually broken his nose, but his own hand was beginning to hurt.  Not that he’d let Snow know that, of course.

“Thank him,” said Snow, smiling. 

Jones rolled onto his side, spitting blood again, but he managed a muffled “thank you,” through his fingers all the same.

Snow called in the guards after a minute or two and had them drag the pirate back to his cell.  Once alone with Charming, she quickly closed the distance between them and pressed a hard kiss onto his mouth.  His hands instantly slid around her waist, pulling her to him, deepening the kiss.  When Snow pulled away, she laughed at his look of disappointment, but patted him lightly on the chest.  “You do know what I like, don’t you”? she said praisingly, beaming up at him with her green eyes glittering.  “I think maybe we can use him again.  He _is_ rather pretty.  And he begs so nicely.”  Again, she laughed at his expression.  “Don’t worry, Charming, you’re rather pretty, too.” And she winked at him.  “Come to me later, after dark.”  It was an order, and though frustrated by the delay and comparison to the pirate, it was an order he was more than happy to follow.  “But bring that man a razor.  It’s hard to see the pretty under all that hair.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but one look from Snow silenced him.  Of course not all was forgiven.  Not yet.  Of course she would punish him.  He nodded and she swept out of the room, leaving only a faint scent of rose in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pardon any errors. I'll fix them as I notice them, but I've delayed getting this chapter out for long enough.


	3. A Shave

Charming waited until well after dark to make his way to Snow’s chambers as ordered.  He let himself in quietly, and found himself confronted by a barely-clothed Snow in flickering candle light.  She divested him of his upper layers in silence before pushing him onto her bed and following close behind.  There was barely time to register her lips on his before her hand slipped between them, sliding downward.  He rolled her onto her back then, trailing kisses down her neck as she sighed and wrapped her legs around him, pressing him close.  With her nails digging into his back, it took no time at all until he felt frustratingly confined by his remaining clothing. The way she writhed against him didn’t help matters.  As he reached down to loosen his belt, Snow caught his hand and instead guided him downward wordlessly, her own hand pressing on the top of his head. 

It wasn’t until she had reached and fallen over the edge of her release with his tongue inside her that she let him crawl back up.  She shifted herself to lay beside him, trailing her fingers over his stomach and chest, smiling at the way his muscles twitched in response.  It was only when he begged her for more that she grinned, raked her nails down his stomach and traced his length through the fabric between them. He gasped and arched up against her hand, seeking more, but she ordered him to stay still.  It was unbearably difficult to hold himself still as her hand worked him through his clothes.  He could feel himself nearing his release and grabbed handfuls of the sheets beneath him as he fought with his own body.  She would make him soil his own pants and he didn’t care.  It would be worth it.  He panted as she squeezed him hard, so close…

And then she rolled away onto her back and laughed cruelly at his anguished groan.

“Snow, please…?”  He begged, throbbing with his denied climax.

“Oh, no.  I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”  She waved her hand dismissively.  “Leave me now.  You performed well, but you’re no longer needed.” He swallowed his protest, took several deep breaths and slowly removed himself from the bed. He retrieved his shirt and vest, doing his best to ignore the ache between his legs.  He would deal with it himself just as soon as he reached his own quarters.  As he pulled the cold handle of the door to leave, Snow called sweetly from the bed, “Oh, and Charming?” He stopped and turned warily, familiar with that tone and eager to leave. “You are not to touch yourself tonight.”

He whimpered, knees buckling slightly under him.  “Yes, my Queen.” He acknowledged weakly, inwardly wailing.

***

Charming kept himself quite busy the following day after a decidedly sleepless night.  There was no end to the work around the castle if one was looking for it, and so he threw himself into one task after another until the sun began to set and there was already a hint of purple in the sky.  It was only then that he remembered the additional task Snow had set him the previous day.  Cursing at himself for letting it slip his mind, he carefully put away his gear and instructed a young guard in training to mind his form. 

The walk back to his chambers was a long one, and he exchanged pleasantries with any who engaged him, not feeling in any hurry to follow this particular order.  While Snow’s hand-picked guards didn’t respect him, he was on good terms with most everyone else within the castle grounds.  Because of this, it took nearly an hour before he made it to his destination.  Once there, he wiped his face and hands clean of the sweat and grit from training, and fell back onto his bed with a heavy sigh.  He stared at the ceiling blankly for what felt like a long time, letting the day fall from him before rolling back up to sit on the edge of the bed.  His body was worn from the day’s work, but he couldn’t let this task fall by the wayside.  If Snow decided to summon the pirate and Charming hadn’t done as she’d asked, there would be hell to pay.

The last thing he wanted was anyone else knowing about this shameful assignment of his, so he took up his own personal straight razor for the task.  He located a small round mirror, grabbed a clean rag, and headed to the door.  As he walked, he folded the razor behind his wide belt and hid the mirror and rag within his vest.  Nobody had to know.

As he neared the entrance to the dungeons, he wondered if Snow had informed her guards of his task, seeking to further humiliate him.  He sincerely hoped she hadn’t gone that far, but it was certainly possible.  Suppressing this thought with difficulty, he made his way toward the two men by the doorway and stood tall before them, hoping to convey more confidence than he felt.

“Purpose of your visit, sir?” asked one of the guards uninterestedly.

“I’m to speak with the pirate on the Queen’s orders.”

“Very good, sir.”  They said at once, suddenly more alert, not daring to delay him when the Queen was the one sending him.  Once he’d passed beyond the guards, he silently released the breath he’d been holding.  Fortunately, it didn’t seem as if Snow had told them.  Perhaps she understood the damage it would do to his reputation.

He stopped briefly at Vera’s cell on his way and found she had been given extra sheets and rags as well as an extra wash basin.  The infant was at her breast as he walked up, and he inquired after its wellbeing.  He discovered that the child was a girl, as yet unnamed, but healthy. 

From there, he went directly to the pirate’s cell, wishing to be done as quickly as possible.  The man sat huddled against the far wall, face hidden.

“Jones.”  He looked up, but made no other movement.  As expected, the bruising of his face had worsened, and his black eye looked especially alarming.  What caught Charming’s attention, however, was an expression akin to disgust lingering behind the eyes.  He chose to ignore it.  “You are to…shave off your beard.”  He rolled his eyes slightly as he said it, and produced the razor and mirror. 

The pirate shifted his gaze to the items and tilted his head slightly.  “…ok?”

Charming opened the cell door and made his way inside.  “I am to supervise.  Make sure you don’t kill yourself.”  He propped the small mirror up on a protruding stone on the back wall and threw the closed razor onto the pile of hay that served as the man’s bed.  “Though as far as I’m concerned, go right ahead,” he added flatly, crossing his arms.

Quietly, Jones positioned himself in front of the small mirror, took up the razor in his trembling hand, and with only the aid of his dirty water basin, set to work.  Over only a small patch of skin, he managed to nick himself four times.  He huffed impatiently, shaking his hand to try and still it.  He clicked his tongue at his reflection and mumbled, “May kill myself by accident at this rate” and then hissed as he caught his skin again.

Snow’s whole reason for sending him down to do this was so that Jones would better fit her definition of ‘pretty’.  He was well on his way to being anything but that as small dots of red reflected the dim light.  Charming knew he’d be held responsible for this mess and had no intention of suffering for another man’s ineptitude.  “Give that to me,” he said gruffly, holding out his hand for the razor.

Jones handed over the blade wordlessly, one eyebrow raised as Charming knelt at his level and leaned in, tilting Jones’ head for a better angle.  Close up, the pirate’s blue eyes were an almost startling contrast to the bloodshot red and purple bruising around them, even in the low light.  His black hair hung limply over them, weighed down with blood, sweat and oil.  But, he supposed reluctantly, he could maybe see why Snow considered him ‘pretty’.

“Ah!”

“Sorry,” he said automatically and pulled his hand away, forgetting who he was speaking to for a moment.  Jones blinked at him.  “Quit moving,” Charming bit out sharply, quickly dabbing the nick he’d just made with the rag he pulled from his vest, avoiding his gaze.  Working around the cuts and bruising was irritating, but he got the job done well enough.  The man looked rather younger without his scruff, something Snow would probably like.  Charming stood up in silence and collected the mirror, tucking the razor back into his belt and folding the slightly bloodied rag back into his vest. 

“Why?” asked Jones unexpectedly from the floor as Charming moved to leave.

“Queen’s orders,” he said simply.  “Don’t know what she sees in you.  You’re revolting.”

“ _Me_?”  The clean-shaven man sat more upright, that look reappearing in his eyes as Charming turned to face him once more.

“You.”

Jones paused, then seemed to make a decision.  “I heard you, you know.  What you said.”

“And what was that?” Charming crossed his arms.  He supposed having nothing to lose made the man brave.

“What you said about the princess you’re holding here.”  Charming shrugged, unmoved.  “How you used her against her will.”  Jones’ ears had gone red.  Perhaps he sensed danger, because his words didn’t come quite as strongly when he continued, “Th- _that’s_ revolting.”

“Yes,” agreed Charming, bored.  “It is.”  He crouched to the pirate’s level and thought for a moment.  The lie had been for Snow.  There was no compelling reason to keep it up for this man. It was really too much effort, anyway.  “And as it happens, I am not a revolting man.”  He straightened slightly.  “I didn’t touch the girl.  Never have.”  Jones frowned at him, doubtful.  “I told her to go along with a story.  She did, to our mutual benefit.”  Charming stood again.  “Don’t think that you can judge me, rat.  We’ve already established you know nothing.”

Jones’ expression changed slowly, eyes curious and searching as Charming stepped back out of the cell and locked it behind him.  Charming wanted nothing to do with those eyes. 


	4. A Shift

It was a full three weeks later, on a dull and rainy day, when Snow again commanded him irresistibly into her presence.  He had managed to regain some favor with her over that time and was once more a regular visitor to her bedroom.  The night she spared the pirate’s life, she had allowed Charming to pleasure her, but denied him his own release.  Since then, she had not been so cruel.  Once, only two nights previously, she had even given him her mouth, though she had made him spill into a rag.

Unfortunately, she either hadn’t forgiven him completely or simply enjoyed tormenting him, for once a week she continued to send him down to the pirate’s cell to personally supervise as Jones shaved.  His last visit had been several days previous.

“Charming,” Snow said in greeting, just down the corridor from her chambers and wearing what appeared to be only a loosely tied dressing gown.

“Majesty,” Charming replied, smiling and reaching out toward her as he walked.

Snow shook her head, and he caught the darkness in her eyes as she backed toward her door, beckoning him with a finger. “Not just yet.  Today, you must earn it.”

Curious, he let his arm fall and followed her.  He wondered just what he would have to do to earn the privilege of touching her.  Or perhaps she wanted to watch him first, which was not unheard of.  Maybe she would test him; bring out her whip or crop or…he shuddered inwardly…her knife.  Make him earn her through pain.  It would be far from the first time.

Bracing himself for a trial, he walked through the open door.  The sight before him froze him in place.  On the far side of the room, near the window, stood the pirate.  But he was unrecognizable at first glance.  He had clearly been scrubbed clean.  Gone was all the leather and dark fabrics, replaced by a loose linen shirt and brown drawstring trousers.  They were old, poorly fitted and worn thin, but clean.  Of course Snow wouldn’t want a filthy mess of a man in her bedroom. At least he hadn’t been ordered to supervise _that_.  Jones looked anxiously up at Charming as he entered the room.  He looked quite different standing in the light, scrubbed and unscathed now that his injuries had healed.  

Snow’s personal chambers were outfitted much like the interrogation room except with a few more metal loops and no chair.  Jones had been secured to the floor by one foot, and to the ceiling by his one good arm.  The amount of chain allowed his hand to hang near his face at full length. If it weren’t for the raised arm, he would seem to simply be standing in the room.  Charming grimaced, remembering the times when it had been he who was bound there at the mercy of a bloodthirsty Snow White.

“What is this?” he asked at last, gesturing toward the pirate, though he had a fairly good idea what it was.

Snow walked past him, toward the chained man, smiling.  “Fun,” she answered, drawing her splayed fingers lazily from Jones’ shoulder down over his chest, to hook finally into the waist of his trousers.  “Well, fun for me,” she amended, unhooking her fingers but letting them slide down his thigh.  “And for you, Charming, if you do as you’re told.” Jones blinked rapidly, looking toward the ceiling uncomfortably as Snow’s nails scraped across the coarse fabric over his hip.

Charming found that coiled serpent of jealousy rearing its head in his gut once more as Snow caressed the other man, her fingers gliding up the pirate’s side as she watched him for a reaction.  He glared across the short distance, wishing he could burn with his the gaze. 

“My pretty pirate is looking much better now, don’t you agree?” she began, reaching up to run a finger along Jones’ now-unblemished cheekbone.

He had seen the man three times in the space between Snow’s summons of him.  He had watched the bruises fade and cuts heal.  Charming conceded that he had healed well, but as the pirate was only brought food every other day and kept in a dark cell, he thought the man looked rather pale and weak, not to mention thinner.  Seeing him in natural daylight made this difference even more apparent.  Perhaps he should change the feeding schedule.  Snow wouldn’t like him as much looking like a corpse.  “Yes, my Queen,” he agreed anyway.

She nodded approvingly. “I do think he could use a bit more color, though.”  She let her fingers drop from his cheek to his jaw a she spoke.  “Some red,” she said softly, “maybe some purple.”

Charming regarded the pirate’s face with passive disinterest, considering what might produce the best results.  “Yes, my Queen.”

Jones looked immediately alarmed and sought out Charming’s eyes, but Charming looked away, instead focusing on Snow, who was biting her lower lip seductively.  Since reclaiming his place at her side, much of his hatred toward the pirate had waned.  He still disliked the man, but mostly he was indifferent, as was the case with most things.  He wasn’t sure he even remembered what it felt like to be anything other than angry, lustful or indifferent anymore.  Jones, on the other hand, seemed to almost trust Charming, though the reason why was lost on him.  Charming had already killed him once and had been seconds away from doing so a second time.  They hadn’t exchanged more than a few words during any of Charming’s other visits to the dungeon.  There was no reason for the other to have changed his opinion of him.  He put it out of his head as he watched Snow settle on a thickly cushioned seat and lean back against it.  She touched a finger to her lips and he licked his own.

“Charming, black his eye and you may take one kiss.” She said it almost boredly, but her eyes glittered, giving her away.

It was all the reason he needed.  Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and threw an expertly aimed punch, knocking Jones’ head to the side.  There was no wall behind him, so the pirate simply stumbled back with a grunt.  Charming’s ring split the skin under his eye, but it was slow to bleed.  Charming turned back to Snow, seeking approval.

“Well done, Charming.  That should bruise beautifully.”  She held her arms out invitingly. “Come and claim your kiss.”

Charming crossed to her in three strides, lowering himself over her reclining form and hungrily sealing his mouth over hers.  Her soft lips opened to receive his tongue and she moaned as he brought his hand to her breast.

“Enough,” she said breathily after a moment, pulling apart from him and removing his hand from her.  “One bruise doesn’t gain the prize.”  He huffed in irritation and tried to reclaim her mouth, but she pushed him back firmly with a hand on his chest.  “Back over there, now.”  She waved him off and smoothed the silky blue fabric which covered her.

With great reluctance, he walked back to where the pirate stood, the line of blood already beginning to dry under his eye.  “What is the price then, my Queen?” he asked, willing to do whatever it took and impatient to achieve it.

“Not all at once, dearest,” she said gently, sitting upright to look at them both.  “Let me see.”  She considered them for a long moment then tilted her head and a predatory smile appeared on her face.  “Frighten him.”

Charming frowned slightly at that.  The first thing that came to mind was to threaten the man’s life again, but that would only work so many times.  Jones already knew that the Queen wanted him alive.  “Frighten him?” he asked, looking for a hint of guidance.

“You’ll think of something,” she replied unhelpfully.

Charming thought for a moment but settled on the tried and true; threat of bodily harm.  He drew his knife, considerably less dainty than Snow’s, from the back of his belt.  He turned to look at her over his shoulder.  “Permission to disfigure?”  He heard Jones inhale sharply beside him.

Snow frowned.  He knew she liked the look of the man, but she asked, “In what way?”

“He only needs one eye, doesn’t he?”

She pouted. “His eyes are lovely,” she protested, but then beamed a moment later.  “But his eye…a one-eyed pirate.  Cliché, but perfect.  Yes.  Permission granted,” she said eagerly, shifting her gaze to watch Jones intently.

Charming turned his head back and pointedly checked the blade of his knife with his finger, watching the pirate watching him.  Jones had already broken out in a sweat and his eyes darted from the blade, to Charming, to Snow and back again.  Charming raised the knife slowly and Jones’ breath came more quickly as the blade stopped inches from his face.  He could do it swiftly, but Snow had wanted fear, so he would deliver.  “You choose, Jones.  Left or right?”

“Wha…no.  Please, no.  I can’t…” he stammered, trying to back away with nowhere to go at the end of his chains.

“My Queen?” Charming inquired without turning away.

“Oh, let’s say…right.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Very well,” said Charming, bringing the blade to rest at the edge of the pirate’s eye socket. 

Jones went very still the moment the metal touched his skin. “No, no, nononono…” His voice was a breathless whimper. “Please…” Charming pressed the blade down until the thin skin beneath it gave way.  Jones yelped and tried to twist away, but Charming grabbed him by the hair and stepped forward to lock a leg behind one of the pirate’s, putting him off balance so that he bore most of his weight on his chained wrist.  Charming carefully set the blade along the first cut again, ignoring the appearance of tears and the trembling he could feel at every point where they had contact.  “Pleeeease…” Jones groaned, “Please don’t.” 

“Do it,” prodded Snow as Charming hesitated, and he could almost hear a growl in her voice.

Jones gasped as the blade slid against his skin and choked out several hysterical sobs before his eyes rolled back and he slumped limply as far as the chain would allow.  Charming released him and stepped back, looking on in…what was that? Relief?  No, certainly not that.  He looked down at the pirate hanging by the wrist, knees just barely touching the floor.  “He fainted,” Charming remarked flatly.

It was a moment before Snow responded, and when she did, it was from his side.  “Oh, that was good.”  She tilted Jones’ head up by the chin and slid a finger through the man’s tears.  “Very good.”  She turned to Charming and attacked him with a hard kiss, biting his lip and untucking his shirt so her hands could slide up his chest.

Charming growled in his throat, dropping the knife and forgetting his surroundings as he wrapped his arms around her possessively.  Snow pulled him down to the floor with a hand at the back of his neck mere feet from the unconscious pirate and easily unfastened his belt before slipping a hand inside his pants.  He let his head fall back a moment as her warm hand closed around him.  She pressed herself against him, one hand working unseen below the belt and the other leaving nail marks in his side.  She bit suddenly at his shoulder and laughed when he hissed, growing harder in her hand.

A groan to the side made Snow pause and then smile, color high on her cheeks and chest.  “Oh, excellent,” she said, watching Jones stir and then struggle to get his feet beneath him.  She pulled away from Charming, ignoring his protest and leaving him on the floor as she stood in front of the pirate.  Snow grabbed the still-groggy Jones by the chin and said, “Welcome back.”  He looked at her blankly at first, blinking, seeming to realize slowly that he still had both his eyes.  Snow laughed and patted his cheek affectionately.  “Yes, it’s still there.  Now, repay me for my kindness.”  As she spoke, she slipped her dressing gown off of her shoulders, exposing her breasts.

“Snow!” objected Charming loudly, raising himself to his knees.

“Quiet,” snapped Snow in return, turning her attention back to the pirate.  “Put those pretty lips to good use or I’ll put your eye out myself.”

With the fresh threat in the air, Jones hurried to comply, one arm held up in the air at an uncomfortable height while he bent his knees until he could reach her with his mouth.  As he closed his lips over her nipple, she ran her fingers into his black hair, holding him in place as she sighed. 

“Mmm, yes, he knows what he’s doing,” she praised.  Charming felt his face burn.  His body was at war with itself.  He was both filled with lust at the sight of Snow biting her lip and groaning, and aflame with jealous rage at who was causing it.  Snow turned half-lidded eyes down to Charming and said breathily, “What are you waiting for?  Do something… _oh_ …useful with yourself.”

Charming scrambled closer to Snow’s legs, still on his knees, as she offered her other breast to a shiny-mouthed Jones.  In that moment, the pirate met his eyes, expression unreadable before averting his gaze and slowly licking snow’s exposed nipple with the flat of his tongue.  The serpent within Charming hissed its displeasure, but something new stirred.  Something he had no mind to consider just now as he slid a finger into the wet heat of Snow’s folds and she pressed down against it with a moan.

He worked her expertly, as if he had something to prove to them both.  He added another finger soon after, pressing his face against her soft middle as his thumb glided over the spot he knew she most craved it.  He wished it could be another part of him inside her; the part which was straining for attention.  He kissed any part of her he could reach with his mouth as she writhed between her two sources of pleasure.  As he felt her begin to stiffen and clench around his fingers, she hissed, “Hurt him…”  Without hesitation, lost in Snow’s pleasure and burning to punish the man for daring to touch his Queen, Charming reached down to his discarded blade and blindly struck out with it, catching the pirate’s closest leg.  He dropped the knife again without a thought as Jones shouted and dropped to the end of his chain again.  Snow steadied herself with the nails of both hands scraping against Charming’s scalp and it took mere moments before she came with a breathless cry, the pirate’s groans of pain the background of her release. 

When she finally began to sink down, Charming removed his fingers to hold her as she slid down his front, spent.  He waited until his own breathing evened out and then gathered her into his arms and carried her to her bed.  He set her gently down on the soft sheets and carefully covered her with a thick blanket.  She smiled serenely and closed her eyes.  “Take him away,” she said quietly before turning away from the two men.

He nodded silently in acknowledgement. Unsatisfied and with his jealous anger still boiling beneath the surface, he strode back across the room and kicked the pirate squarely in the gut.  Jones coughed and doubled over as much as he was able, gasping.  The burning rage receded somewhat, retribution attained, but as Jones looked up at him tearfully and shaking, the other nameless thing stirred again.  With a disgusted sneer, Charming turned away.

“I’m sorry,” came the weak voice from behind him.  Charming chose to ignore it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'll edit later if needed, but I was determined to get this chapter out finally. Hope you enjoy! Comments are appreciated!


	5. Wandering Thoughts

The minutes passed in near-silence in Snow’s bedchamber as Charming brought himself under control and made himself presentable.  Though his back was turned, he couldn’t completely block out the sounds of chains or the strained way the pirate was breathing behind him.  The noises only served to irritate him and he found himself wishing that the storm outside were stronger.  Thunder would be ideal.

When he was finally satisfied with his appearance, he left the room to fetch the guards.  He certainly wasn’t about to drag the man back down to the dungeon himself.  He stood stiffly by the door as they unfastened and then pulled Jones from the room.  On a spiteful whim, he ordered the guards to leave the pirate out in the rain, ostensibly to clean him of blood and sweat.  None of the three reacted in any way other than to nod their understanding as they continued to drag the crumpled man from Snow’s presence.  Charming listened to the sounds of retreating boots and dragging feet until he was certain they had rounded the corner before he left the room himself and closed the door quietly behind.

He made his way to his own chambers in time to watch from his window as the guards tied Jones roughly to a hitching post by the neck before hurrying back inside themselves, taking cover from the weather.  The rain came in fits and starts, one moment barely a mist and the next pelting his window in sheets.  Once or twice, he saw Jones reach up and try the knot, but the wet rope along with his one hand made it a futile attempt. 

***

Nearly two hours later, after Charming himself had taken a hot bath and seen to his own neglected needs, he located the same guards and ordered them to bring the pirate back to the dungeon.  He watched from afar as they walked him back into the castle.  He could see even from this distance that Jones was red around the neck and almost useless on his feet.  Charming crossed his arms over his chest and forcefully dismissed the small twinge in his gut that suggested he may have overreacted.  He had the sneaking suspicion that this sort of uncharacteristic display of malice was exactly what Snow was after.  But _why_? He struck the stone wall with his fist in frustration, the pain bringing him back to himself.  It wasn’t his place to be questioning the Queen’s motives.  He inhaled deeply and looked out toward the overcast sky.  He felt as though night should have fallen long ago, but knew it was only barely time for the evening meal.  Running a hand restlessly through his hair, he turned and strode down the hall.

Snow never appeared for the meal, preferring to take her food in her room.  He supposed he should have expected that, but he had intended to speak with her.  Charming sent away the attending servants and ate only grudgingly of the hearty stew and selection of baked goods and fine imported foods before him.  He did, however, empty a bottle and a half of a sweet red wine before he left the table with a loud scraping of chair legs and clatter of utensils.

Charming wandered somewhat aimlessly, lost in his own clouded thoughts, until he found himself outside.  He kept to the walls and out of the rain, but breathed in the scent it left.  It had settled at last into a steady fall of overlarge drops; the kind which felt heavy and soft on his outstretched hand.  There was something familiar about it that he couldn’t quite place.  Something almost comforting just beyond the reach of his memory and further obscured by the wine he had imbibed.  He had hoped to block out some of his frustrations with the alcohol, but the drink had merely left him with a feeling of restless agitation. As he shook the rain from his hand, his mind turned back to Snow.

Just _what_ had she been playing at?  Charming knew very well that she enjoyed inflicting and witnessing the pain of others; that she had pleasured herself to the sounds of torture, and quite frequently had used him for the same purpose.  He knew she liked him to beg.  What he begged for seemed immaterial as she had made him do so for everything from letting him taste her to simply being allowed a drop of water after hours at her mercy.  If she could bring him to tears, all the better, though he fought that particular shame despite how it pleased her.

She knew he was devoted to her.  She had guaranteed as much, and he had never so much as attempted to refuse an order.  She knew he would do anything to please her.  She had of course had many other men.  He knew this.  _Everyone_ knew this.  But she had never seen fit to flaunt it or involve him before.  He knew she found the pirate attractive.  Knew she enjoyed watching him abused.  But she could accomplish that herself.  The man was half starved, had already been beaten, was one-handed and restrained.  She could do anything she wanted without Charming’s assistance.  He could only imagine what she had in mind, because he was sure what happened earlier wasn’t going to be the last time.  If her aim had been to inspire jealousy, she had succeeded brilliantly.  But she had never bothered with doing so before, and he didn’t understand it.

At last, finding no other way to occupy himself and with his head a little clouded with his drink, he made up his mind to speak to the pirate.  He reasoned that Snow had perhaps told Jones something she hadn’t revealed to him.  After all, he didn’t know how long she had kept the man before calling for him to join her.  He wanted to know Snow’s plans.  Understand her mind, though the chances of her telling a prisoner something after he had caused her so much trouble were infinitesimally small.  His visit was certainly _not_ to assuage his nagging feeling of guilt that he might have gone too far in his punishment.  Not for cutting the man, of course, as that had been in pursuit of Snow’s pleasure, which eclipsed all.  It was throwing him out in the rain which had served no purpose.  Neither he nor Snow gained anything from that act.  It was needlessly cruel, perhaps birthed from his frustration at being denied his release yet again, but pointless cruelty was something he generally avoided, and went against his carefully groomed reputation.

He made his way down to Jones’ cell in a sort of haze as the wine finally hit its full potential, not registering much of what he passed or heard on the way.  He knew prisoners tried to catch his attention, but he passed by, uninterested.  As he descended the stairs to the pirate’s level of cells, he shook his head in an effort to clear it slightly.  When he came within sight of the bars, he found Jones shaking violently in the corner of the cell, thin sheet wrapped tightly around him, blood plastering fabric to a long slice in his leg.  Charming cursed inwardly at that.  He hadn’t thought he’d caught so much skin in his blind swing of the blade.  The pirate’s clothing seemed to be mostly dry at a glance, but it obviously did nothing to relieve the cold.  He felt that irritating prickle of guilt creep up again, but brushed it aside.  That was not why he was here.

“Pirate,” he said flatly from the barred doorway.

Jones startled at first, but didn’t move much except to slowly turn his head toward Charming, somewhat unfocused.  “S-sir?” he asked at last.

Charming frowned slightly, wondering when the pirate had begun referring to him as ‘sir’, but went on.  “I want to know what Snow said to you.” Jones looked at him blankly.  “Before I found you with her earlier today.” He clarified, careful to enunciate.  It wouldn’t do to appear inebriated.

Jones closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.  “Nothing, ssssir.”  His tongue caught on the ‘s’ until he forced the rest of the word out.

“She said nothing to you?” he asked, crossing his arms heavily.  “Nothing at all?  She had you chained and the two of you stood in silence together?” his voice dripped sarcasm.

Jones blinked hard and sluggishly rolled his head against the stone wall in a sort of slow gesture of ‘no’.  “Sh-she only sssaid she w-was going to have sssome fun.”  He made a visible effort to still his shaking.  It accomplished nothing.  “And th-that you would h-help her.”  He tried to pull the sheet more tightly around him, but lost his grip on it instead and he looked down after it in defeat.  “She left the r-room after.”

Charming’s face remained impassive.  It was what he expected, really.  “I see.”  He watched as the pirate struggled to catch the edge of the sheet with his shaking hand, hesitating before leaving again.  He turned and walked further down the same corridor, away from the stairs, deciding something on impulse.  He pulled open a heavy door and grimaced at the odor he was met with.  Someone would need to come clean this room out in the near future.  He grabbed a more substantial blanket from a basket of stale-smelling folded linens and made his way back to the cell.  As he walked, he blearily reasoned with himself that a mangled leg would not be to Snow’s liking and so resolved to send down the physician to sew Jones up.  If he also treated the man for exposure, then so be it.  It was certainly none of his concern.  In the meantime, he stopped only a moment at the cell door to throw the blanket through the bars.  Jones looked up in vague surprise as Charming turned away again, unwilling to acknowledge the appreciation in the pirate’s unfocused eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> ~ happendash and that-hurts on tumblr ~


End file.
